“You’ve gotta be careful these days,” he told her.
“You could photograph my license too,” she said helpfully. “For all you know, I’m the serial killer.”
The dimple in his chin appeared. “I think I’m safe. Besides, I can totally take you.”
Oh yes, you can…
She silenced the naughty voice in her head and headed for the SUV’s passenger side, but Austin beat her to it. To her sheer amusement, he opened the door for her.
“What?” he said when he caught sight of her expression.
“You know, I think that’s the first time anyone has opened a car door for me.” She shook her head in bewilderment. “I always thought chivalry was dead.”
“Nope, it’s alive and kicking.” His smile was self-deprecating. “Maybe I was a knight in a past life.”
Laughing, Mari slid into the car. A few seconds later, Austin was in the driver’s seat and starting the engine.
She shot him a sidelong look, admiring his chiseled profile. She couldn’t quit staring at his stubble. She wanted to drag her fingers over those razor-sharp whiskers, explore the texture, trace the strong line of his jaw. Her art tended to stray toward abstract and conceptual, but for the first time in her life, she found herself wanting to paint a portrait.
Or a nude…
Again, she silenced the dirty voice.
“So you said you’re from Colorado? Whereabouts?” she asked, figuring that if she kept the conversation going her thoughts wouldn’t keep drifting into dirty territory.
“Paradise,” he answered as he steered the SUV off the gravel shoulder. “It’s a small mountain town about forty minutes north of Denver.”
“And what do you do in Paradise?”
“In Paradise? Not much. I’m a photojournalist, so I spend most of my time traveling.”
Mari’s eyes brightened. “That’s amazing. Are your photos featured in magazines? Newspapers?”
“Both, but mostly magazines. The last spread I did was for Harper’s. Before that, it was National Geographic. Really depends on what the assignment is.”
“Are you on assignment now?”
He nodded, but she noticed he didn’t look enthused. “I’m photographing small towns. Main Streets, in particular.”
“That’s cool. Sort of like The Bridges of Madison County?”
Austin glanced over. “Is that a movie?”
“Um, yes!” Mari gaped at him. “Only one of the best movies ever.”
His face remained blank.
“Meryl Streep, Clint Eastwood?” she prompted. When he shrugged noncommittally, she gave an exaggerated sigh. “Clint plays a photographer for National Geographic. That makes him your kinsman! How could you not know that movie?”
“I don’t watch many movies,” he confessed.
“Not even those shoot-’em-up action movies?”
“Not even those.” He grinned. “My sister-in-law Maddie is a huge action nut, though. She owns every action movie ever made. Last time I was home, she made me sit through a Jason Statham marathon.”
“That sounds like a blast. Jason Statham is hot.”
Austin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking the whole time, how hot Statham is.”
“So you have a sister-in-law—your brother’s wife?”
“Yup.”
“Older brother or younger?”
“Older.” His tone grew vague.
“I always wanted a sibling,” Mari said glumly, “but my parents didn’t want to have any more kids. Do you have just the one brother?”
“Three, actually.”
Three more hotties who looked like Austin? Yummy, she almost blurted out.
“And before you ask, Owen and Jake are four years older. Nate is eight years older—he turned thirty-three last month. Another birthday I got shit about for missing.”
His bitter tone gave her pause, but before she could press for details, he abruptly changed the subject. “So what do you do for a living? And how’d you lose your job, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I don’t mind.” She sighed. “I was a teacher at a public school in Chicago, but there were a bunch of cutbacks and layoffs, and the art department let go of half its staff. I was the last one hired, therefore the first one fired.”
Austin turned with a quick look of sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear that. You were an art teacher then?”
She nodded. “Grades five to nine. I work on my own practice in my spare time. I mostly sell my stuff online, but I had a lot of paintings on consignment at a few galleries in Chicago.”
“That’s awesome.” The praise sounded genuine, a contrast to the response she usually got from her parents when it came to her career choices.
“Everyone I knew in college decided to take a more ‘practical’ path,” Austin went on. “According to them, art and photography and other creative fields are dead ends. That’s why I love meeting fellow creative types. You know, the ones who’ve decided that practical sucks.”